A Collection
by ShouldIGetOutandPush
Summary: As the title suggests, a collection of short stories, or oneshots. I'll leave open-ended to continue to add to it as I write. Mostly surrounding Han and Leia, but others may make an appearance here and there. Timeframes will vary but I'll let you know 'where' you are before each chapter. I'm stuck on my bigger story, so this was just something to get me going. Hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1 - Don't Let Go

A/N: Timeline would be pre-ESB. I don't know exactly where the inspiration came from, but it all started with one little word whispered by Han. You'll have to read to find out what it was.

* * *

_Don't Let Go_

It didn't matter now that he had been wrong. There was no point in assigning blame. Yet, that was all that he could think about. _If we get out of this alive, she's going to kill me_.

"Han?" She called out, her voice trembling. His grip on her tightening in response. He had told her not to look down but now he had become dizzily mesmerized by the tiny strip of land that lingered dangerously far below them.

"Leia," he responded, forcing his voice to sound calm, cool and in control while his mind reeled trying desperately to find a means of escape. She had wanted to go around the ravine, following a circuitous path that would've added several hours to their trip. He had insisted the bridge would be safer. Quicker. The bridge that was now crumbling beneath them as Leia dangled from his fingertips.

"Don't let go," she said. He could tell by the tone of her voice that she knew that he wouldn't. She always enjoyed telling him what to do, especially when she knew he had no choice but to do as he was told.

He mentally shook his head at her, even in the face of death she could rile him, but before his brain could manufacture a flippant response he heard himself saying, "Never," with a little more emotion than he had ever dared plan on. Hells, he hadn't even planned on saying it at all and there was now an aching pain inside of him where that word should've been.

_Never_.

He heard it repeat in his mind as he tightened his grip on her. It was a simple word. But on his lips, at that moment, to that particular person, it sounded..._dangerous_. It held implications, double meanings, promises that he wasn't prepared to own up to just yet. He swallowed, not knowing what else to do. Had she heard it in the same way? Would she decipher the hidden meanings that he had not intended to divulge? He wanted once again to camouflage the moment with a smart remark, yet instead he heard his voice repeating, this time with perhaps even more conviction, "_Never_."


	2. Chapter 2 - Interesting

A/N: Timeframe here is very early post-ANH or pre-ESB, however you want to look at it. Inspiration came from thinking about how Han might've viewed politics and politicians and how he would've tried to reconcile his opinion of Leia (as a politician) and the Leia that he was trying to get to know. Somehow it came out in Leia's POV, though. Enjoy.

* * *

_Interesting_

"A Senator at nineteen, huh?"

She eyed him cautiously. Probing questions from Han Solo usually took on a life of their own and were not to be trifled with. "That's right."

He nodded his head thoughtfully while scratching at the stubble on his face. For some reason, she had always liked the sound that made. "Interesting," was all he said in return.

Leia didn't like the feeling of being baited. Unfortunately she experienced that feeling all too often while in present company. She turned back to her datapad and continued to read, resisting the urge to fall prey to his trap. Interesting. The single word nagged at her sub conscience. _What did he mean by that?_ Of course, it wasn't normal for a nineteen-year old girl to be elected to the Galactic Senate. But was it the fact that it was _her_ that made it so interesting? Did he think her not capable? "Why do you say that?" She spit out before she could stop herself.

Han Solo grinned. She immediately rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever onslaught that grin might be the harbinger of. He leaned forward a little bit, resting his arms on the table so that their faces were closer. She willed herself not to flinch, not to breathe, even. "It's interesting, is all," he said innocently. And then with a shrug of his shoulders he leaned back and propped his foot up on the chair next to her. She allowed herself a breath. "_You_, politics," he continued. "All that _lyin' and cheatin'_."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "There's more to politics than lying and cheating, Han."

He raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. His grin turning into a full wattage smile.

Smiles from Han Solo were often contagious and she felt the edges of her mouth curling up in response. "Besides," she said, fighting against the shyness that inexplicably gripped at her when she initiated conversations with the irreverent Captain, "since when do you have a problem with lying and cheating?"

"Oh, _I_ don't. It was just interesting to me that _you_ wouldn't have a problem with it," he said slowly, as if for once choosing his words carefully.

"Interesting?" She repeated with her eyes trained on him. He found her interesting? He thought about her in his spare time? And not just lascivious-ly? Now _that_ was interesting.

Han shuffled in his seat, straightened up and took his foot off of the chair next to her. "Yeah, interesting," he said into his plate as he returned to his dinner. He appeared uncomfortable, as if realizing that he may have revealed something to her that he had not intended to. She openly studied him for as long as she dared, piqued by this morsel of information.

When her eyes returned to her datapad, she couldn't concentrate on the figures in front of her. Suddenly she found her brain unable to process even the simplest of tasks. _Interesting_.


	3. Chapter 3 - Wherever I Go

A/N: Timeframe here is pre-ESB. This idea came from me wondering how happy people might be to see Leia Organa show up on their doorstep when throughout most of the EU, if she showed up, she most likely brought trouble along with her. So, I wondered how _she_ might've felt about that and this is what came out.

* * *

_Wherever I Go_

The heated flames licked their backs and nipped at their fast-moving heels. He tugged at her arm; his usual patience for her small stride worn thin by his concern for her safety. She stumbled and he steadied her, supporting what he estimated to be the majority of her weight. A fleeting thought of scooping her up in his arms raced across his mind but he thought better of it. _She wouldn't like that._ _Scratch that_, he amended. _She would_ hate _that._

"Can we stop?"

Before he could answer her, she had halted, hands resting on her knees and her breath heaving out of her in gasps. He looked first behind them for a tail and then ahead of them to the safety of the twinkling lights of the city still too dangerously far away. "We really should keep moving."

Leia's head was down, the long braid of her hair dangling over her shoulder where she could watch it sway in front of her. _We really should keep moving_, Han's words echoed in her mind like a warning or a mantra. But she couldn't go anymore. Her body was more than capable but it was her spirit that was unwilling. Perpetually chased by a smothering sense of loss, it wasn't often that Leia let it catch up to her. But here it was today clinging to her with its all-consuming weight.

She shut her eyes. They had arrived on-planet to finalize a new covert trade route for the Rebellion. Han had docked the _Falcon_ at a nearby spaceport leaving Chewbacca behind for backup. Everything had been progressing as scheduled. Han had been his usual stubborn, cynical self. But riddled within his diatribes had been the sound advice that she had become accustomed to expecting from him. And so everything had been like normal. That is until that afternoon. They had been exposed. Singularly, determinedly, the warehouse they had been working in had been demolished. Their contacts' homes and families had been obliterated; the majority of the innocent town left in flames. And now she ran. Once again leaving death and destruction in her wake.

Han waited as she caught her breath. It never ceased to catch him off guard - how tiny and frail she could look - especially when he spent most of his time being intimidated by her. Finally, she raised her eyes - usually the source of said intimidation. Their familiar fire was now doused by unshed tears. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered, like a guilty confession.

Han felt an unfamiliar twitch in his gut. He quickly crouched down to her, un-steadied by this rare lack of composure. "Alright," he said with a hurried breath, and then fighting against all warnings he wrapped an arm around her and repeated, "It's alright."

Her knees sank down into the sodden earth beneath them and her body melted against his frame. He thought for a moment that he had misjudged her exhaustion, but then he felt her breath hiccup and realized she was crying. "Leia?" He whispered in alarm as he drew her closer, all manners of guilt and worry washing over him. "It's alright, sweetheart, we can stop. I'm sure we weren't followed. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard," he rambled on over her sobs.

It wasn't often Leia's spirit matched the diminutive-ness of her frame. It was usually fascinating to watch and study her; a small flame flickering against the gale force winds of change. But on rare occasions, such as this, when the wind threatened to win that battle, it could be a terrifying sight to behold. Something so strong, made to look so weak. He held her tight against him and continued to whisper words of support, not even sure of what he was saying but too afraid to let the silence consume them.

How sweet it felt to be held by someone. For a moment she let herself remember her father and how safe it had felt to be in his arms. But he was yet another one of her casualties and memories of him were rarely unaccompanied by guilt and pain. She wondered if it would always be that way. Could she ever think of home again without the painful thrumming of regret? How easy it would be to give up, to never find the answer to that question? When would everything she was fighting for be worth losing everything worth living for? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her best to fight through the familiar, tantalizing pull of despair.

Han continued to comfort her and she let his words wash over her. She could almost feel his concern wrap around her and surround her. This wasn't the first time he had witnessed her like this. This wasn't the first time he had consoled her like this. She regretted falling apart in front of him, mentally kicking herself for the lapse, all the while reveling in the bolster of strength his proximity provided. She couldn't imagine letting herself crumble in front of anyone else. Somehow she knew that Han wouldn't let her fall too far. That notion had become very important to her.

He could feel her breathing begin to steady. "I didn't know you were so tired," he whispered lamely.

"It's not that," she sniffed as she pressed her cheek against the fabric of his shirt and then, as if finally realizing what she was doing, she drew away wiping her face with shaky hands and swiping away tears with the backs of her knuckles. "We can go now. I'm fine."

Han sat back on his heels, separating himself from her and frowning. She ignored him as she stood, patting and wiping at her clothes as if she could brush off the last few minutes of her life. _This_ he was used to. "Leia," he said forcefully. He loved her name; loved hearing himself say it. Although he didn't use it often, opting instead for annoying nicknames that easily riled her. And this was why. Because when he said her name, he said so much more. It carried with it limitless meaning. He wondered if she heard it in the same way.

She looked down at him, her tears were dried and her eyes were beginning to flicker with that all-too-familiar flame. "I'm fine, Han, really," she replied. "What? I can't have a minor breakdown every now and again?"

"Sure," he replied placating-ly as he pushed himself up to stand. He had been _here_ before, with her. And as well-traveled a place the galaxy was, he liked to think that this was maybe somewhere no one else had ever been. She had opened up to him before, _cried_ on him before. Gods knew why she trusted him like that. But he never was one to question things too closely. He just knew that he liked it, especially liked the thought of being the only one. He didn't waste time trying to figure out why that was either. "It'd just really help to know why," he finally added. For the few times that Leia Organa had let her emotions get the best of her, she had never lost control of her words. She had never, ever told him _why_ she was crying. Of course, it wasn't hard for him to guess.

"Help who, exactly?" She replied heatedly and as soon as she heard her own question, she was sure she didn't want him to answer her. "This isn't the time or place for you to play analyst, Han. We really need to get moving." And with that she turned and headed down the overgrown path. She could feel him watching her, knew that he would only entertain her stubbornness for so long. Part of her wondered what it might feel like to give voice to all those things that went through her mind. The thought was all at once exhilarating and frightening. But deep down she knew that he would only repeat what many others had already said, that it wasn't her fault and that she shouldn't feel the way she did. The trouble was, those words never made the feelings go away.

He watched her as she walked away, wondering what in all the worlds went through her mind sometimes. And then he began to follow her because he had every intention of finding that very thing out. Maybe not today, or next week, but _someday_ he knew she would talk to him and the very thought made his insides somersault. He lengthened his stride so as to catch up to her. Once alongside her he looked down at the top of her head. He knew she could feel him watching her and knew just as well that she was intentionally ignoring him now. His jaw set determinedly. There weren't many people who would describe him that way, but Han Solo could be a very patient man.


	4. Chapter 4 - I Know

A/N: Timeframe here is pre-ANH. Same as "Leia's Laugh" this oneshot was already shared on the Han and Leia Fanfic Writer's blog, so, sorry for the repeat if you've read it there. Inspiration here came from an early picture of Carrie Fisher that I ran upon on a random tumblr. If you want to see the picture, feel free to visit the blog (there's a link on my profile page).

* * *

_I Know_

_Alderaan – 4 BBY_

"Yes, but _how_ do you know?"

Leia shrugged. "I just…know." _Like I know not to ask about my real parents_. She never understood it, but she had also never questioned it. It was an innate ability she had always had, like the way Winter could remember everything. It didn't have to or couldn't be explained. Her mother seemed uneasy with her response. She excelled at making her mother uneasy. Leia shuffled on her feet. "Can I go now?"

Her mother studied her, like she was one of those puzzles Bail would bring back from a business trip. Then her eyes softened and the edges of her mouth ticked up in a smile. Leia's insides flushed with warmth and she took two steps and engulfed her mother in a tight hug, burying her head against her chest. Breha immediately reciprocated, stroking Leia's hair and kissing her on the top of the head as she whispered, "Oh, my precious daughter."

The words were laced with a sorrow Leia was all too familiar with but, yet again, had never understood. _It's as if I have a terminal illness they're not telling me about_. She had even discussed her suspicions with Winter, who had wholly dismissed the idea as preposterous. Of course, Winter also thought that those deportment lessons were fun.

"It's not for me to understand, my sweet Leia," her mother said as she began to pull away. Leia looked up to her mother, her chin lifted just a tad as she continued to catch up to her petite mother's height. Breha cupped Leia's chin in her hand, her eyes puddles of liquid warmth. "Always trust your heart," she said emphatically.

Leia swallowed. Bail may very well have served as a more prominent figure in her life in the eyes of many, but Leia admired and trusted her mother just as implicitly.

Breha took a breath and continued, "Sometimes, just knowing…is more than enough."

"I know, Mother," she replied seriously and then instantly smiled at the unintended drollness of her response.

Breha's eyes lit with humor and mischief. Leia always enjoyed seeing this side of her royal mother. "Yes," she responded lightly as she released Leia's chin. "Just as _I_ know you just can't help yourself sometimes."

"I was being serious," Leia returned in a half-argument, half-pout yet total playfulness. _She's right, I can't help it_.

"Go," her mother replied, indicating the doorway as the older woman returned to her work. "You'll be late and your father will worry."

"I love you, Mother," Leia said. Once again she felt a warmth blossom in her belly. Quiet, intimate moments with Breha Organa were hard to come by, even for her own daughter. For as much as politics and travel took Bail away from her, obligations and unseen worries took her mother even further and more often. She cherished unexpected times such as these where the two of them were able to be simply a mother and daughter. Of course, they happened so rarely that it was an old habit of Leia's to try and drag them out as long as possible.

Breha stopped. "I love you, too, Leia," she replied warmly in silent understanding. But then her eyes widened and she put on her no-more-arguments-about-this face and added, "Now go."

Leia beamed. Somehow her mother always made her feel loved and understood even when it was very clear that in some ways she didn't understand her at all. _I don't know what I would do without her_, she thought as she turned on her heel and scampered out the door.


	5. Chapter 5 - Leia's Laugh

A/N: Timeframe here is pre-ANH. Same as "I Know" this oneshot was already shared on the Han and Leia Fanfic Writer's blog, so, sorry for the repeat if you've read it there. Inspiration here came from an early picture of Carrie Fisher that I ran upon on a random tumblr. If you want to see the picture, feel free to visit the blog (there's a link on my profile page).

* * *

_Leia's Laugh_

_Alderaan – 2 BBY_

Bail Organa watched as the shadows stretched lazily against the rolling hills of the Organa Estate. He held his arms out wide and yawned in imitation. His eyes drifted back towards the sound of blaster fire over his right shoulder just in time to see the intended target explode. The shot was good, better than he probably could've done, but it was a little late. "That was perfect," he said, his stomach growling as his mind wandered to what might be happening in the large kitchen up at the main house.

"I hesitated," his daughter returned grumpily as she checked the charge on her blaster and summoned the target droid for another round.

"C'mon, Leia, sweetheart. It's getting late, you'll barely be able to see the targets."

His daughter turned toward him swiftly, that familiar determined look on her face. "And how many ambushes have you heard about that happened in broad daylight?"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Point. But I'm hungry. Even the best trained soldiers know when to stop and eat."

"One more round?" She asked, her wide eyes absolutely impossible to say no to.

"One more round," Bail conceded with a proud smile.

Nearly every family in their circle of friends trained their children in basic combat techniques and self-defense. For most, the daughters proved difficult students at best. Typical girls were more interested in learning how to braid their hair extravagantly then how to handle an assortment of blasters. But his Leia was different.

Driven would be the one word to describe her. As he watched her fire off another round, Bail was secretly grateful. He shuddered to think what his life would be like if he had had to force this training onto his daughter every step of the way. Because for his family, for his daughter in particular, this wasn't just some silly precaution. For her it would be all too real.

Everyone assumed it was due to his rumored role in the Rebellion against the Empire that Bail trained his daughter so. That is why when Leia opted for interrogation training over a fancy party, no one raised an eyebrow. It provided an excellent cover. Leia's talents could very well be tested someday as the Rebellion gained momentum, he had to admit, but that was not the test that Bail had spent his entire life preparing her for.

_We'll take the girl. _He had said those words all those years ago. He could still hear his voice perfectly as he spoke them, could smell the sterile air of the hospital board room where they had sat, could feel the prickle against the back of his neck as he realized that this was something bigger than he had ever taken on before. _Little did I know_.

Being a father was bigger than Bail had ever anticipated. He had no idea that love could be so boundless. The more he watched her grow, the more he saw that she was prepared and ready...it seemed the more he begged for time itself to stand still.

"Hellooo. Alderaan to base command?"

Bail blinked and found Leia staring at him, her blasters packed away and the target droid ambling off toward the back of the estate. "That was much better," he sputtered with an easy smile as he pulled Leia under the crux of his arm and began to lead her toward the house.

"You're a terrible liar, Bail Organa. And I thought only really _old_, old men could fall asleep standing up."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was deep in thought."

"About me," Leia stated.

Bail hugged her to him. He learned long ago not to be surprised by her perceptiveness. "What else is there?" He asked and she laughed as Bail shut his eyes briefly, cherishing that glorious sound.


	6. Chapter 6 - Surviving Encounters

A/N: Timeframe here would be post-ROTJ. I don't have anything insightful to say about the inspiration as I basically wrote this to aggravate/tease Zyra. :-) Oh, and let me just thank Zyra here for her beta reading awesomeness.

Also, I'm unsure if the timing of everything here would conform with the EU, but I wasn't really worrying about that either.

* * *

_Surviving Encounters_

The twins twisted uncomfortably inside of her. She discreetly stretched her hip to one side, not wanting to draw attention to her ever-growing belly. _As if he won't notice you're pregnant, regardless_. Ignoring her inner voice she watched the being across the room from her. Pregnancy had certainly brought with it a certain vulnerability but never before had she felt it more prominently than now. And vulnerable was the last thing she wanted to feel in this certain person's presence. Her stomach tightened once again as she noticed him turn to approach her. Her heart raced and for once she wished Han had accompanied her to one of these functions. But then she quickly thought the better of it. Han's presence here could only make matters worse.

"Minister," his electronic voice intoned.

"Mandalore," she responded just as coolly.

"You look well," he replied, his helmet dipping ever-so-slightly in indication that he was taking in her frame.

Her hand ran across her belly instinctively and she didn't even bother chastising herself about it. "Thank you."

His helmet turned, as if taking in the room surrounding them. "How far we've come."

He had always been a man a few words. She, of course, knew that he was speaking of Tatooine. One of their more memorable meetings, although they had had a few other encounters since then. It was hard for her to remember that day without remembering that outfit. She knew (or suspected) that was all anyone remembered of that day when it was brought up - especially Lando. "Indeed," was all she said in response.

"Where's Solo?"

"Why? Are creds tight?"

He made a noise, perhaps a laugh. "I've left the days of chasing Han Solo behind me...along with my youth."

"I guess it would be kind of hard to seal this deal if you kidnapped the Minister-of-State's husband. Han's at home."

"Baking dew cake and waiting for the little lady?"

"Jealous?"

"Perhaps."

The answer, its abruptness and its apparent sincerity, surprised her.

"Don't go flattering yourself. I only speak of the general picture, not of you specifically."

Leia blushed and then cursed her fair skin and whoever might've given it to her. "_Flattered_...wouldn't have been the word I would've used."

He stiffened. "We stand here on equal ground, just as we did back on Tatooine, and yet you still pretend to tower above me. You are who you surround yourself with, Minister, and today..." He paused and looked around the room. "Today you bring to the table liars, cheaters, backstabbers and spineless cowards. I bring with me men of honor. Men who don't apologize for who they are, or pretend to be who they are not. Men whose word, when given, will not be broken. And men who never underestimate their opponents."

He stopped and Leia took a moment to once again look around the room. His words held certain truths. Many at the table from the New Republic would just as well squelch on this deal next week if the mood struck them. And although they perhaps feared the Mandalorians, she was sure they underestimated the group's political savvy and strength. Several more were liars and cheaters that she wouldn't normally welcome into her home. Such was politics. She couldn't elect or appoint every official. For one thing she didn't know that many honest, willing sentient beings and for another, it wouldn't be much of a Republic if she did.

"Give Solo my best," Fett whispered into her thoughts as he turned and took her leave.

She drew in a deep breath and watched him walk away. The twins turned inside of her, perhaps enjoying the extra space as her muscles began to relax and she chalked up another successful meeting with the infamous Boba Fett. Succss being measured by the mere survival of it.


	7. Chapter 7 - Headaches

A/N: Timeframe is mid-ROTJ, after Han's rescue from Carbonite but before Endor. I was just thinking about how Han might've opened up (or not) about what had happened to him while in Carbonite.

* * *

_Headaches_

"I see we are on zopran."

Han Solo crushed his forehead between his fingers. "For the headaches, yeah."

"And how are they? The headaches?"

Han looked over at the green-skinned alien. The Alliance-appointed, green-skinned alien psychologist that Leia had personnally escorted him to that morning. "They're doing just great, thanks for askin'."

"Sarcasm, hmm" the alien replied wryly as he looked at his notes. "According to your charts, that is to be expected."

Han took a double take. _Wait a minute, that's in my charts?_

"Gotcha," the alien wheezed some sort of chuckle. "We are not the only one with a sense of humor."

Han nodded and put on a half-hearted grin. _Just great._ "So, are we done here?"

"Done?" the alien sputtered. "We have not yet answered a single question."

The pain inside of Han's head blossomed to new, excucriating heights. He contemplated standing and marching out of the office, but the fear of throwing up left him sitting comfortably in the cushioned seat. His hand continued to massage his forehead. "Alright, whatdya wanna know?"

"Okay," the alien answered, seemingly surprised as he began flipping through his flimsiplast pad. "How is your memory? What do you recall lastly?"

Han drew in a deep breath. Grasping at the ghosts of his pre-carbonite memory always made the pain of his headaches worse. "I remember arriving at Cloud City." As he said the words, images of the torture table and the black figure of Darth Vader flitted across his mind. He wiped the palms of his hands on his pants.

The alien eyed Han's hands and entered something onto his pad. "And after that?"

"After that," Han repeated. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled his nostrils. Then the memory of a light kiss against his forehead ghosted across his skin. He wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. "We met Lando, my friend. And he...he betrayed us."

The alien contemplated him for a moment, his big green eyes blinking slowly. "Can you describe the ordeal?"

Han shook his head. Smoke filled the air around him and he felt the desperation of a last kiss. "It's all a blur," he shrugged helplessly as he licked his lips. He could see her face, knew what she had said but couldn't quite conjure up her voice. The pain abated the memory. A haunting remnant of the torture. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Alright," the alien replied. "Accessing that part of the brain is painful, yes?"

In more ways than one. "You could say that," Han replied through clenched teeth. When he opened his eyes he realized that every muscle in his body had tightened. He methodically went through the effort of relaxing them, starting with the balled fists of his hands.

"Fast forward, two and a half standard years later. What of your first memories post-carbonite?"

Two and a half years? The words still seemed incredible to him. The air was dry and arid. Relief flooded through him, his body went bonelessly limp. _Someone who loves you._ "Not much there either," he rasped.

"Uh-hum," the alien replied, idly entering notes into his datapad.

"Everything else seems fine," Han added, hoping to say anything that might make this visit his last. "I remember everything, small details, how to fly my ship, where I hid my emergency creds. Everything, you know?"

"Yes, of course." The alien looked up from his notes, granting Han his undivided attention. "And what of the time in carbonite, Captain Solo. What memories, if any, do we have there?"

Han blinked twice and then looked away. In his mind he focused on that missing two-and-a-half year span. There was nothing but darkness there. That's what he had told Leia and Chewie, for he was unable or unwilling to describe it sufficiently. Leia was there - very clearly - calling to him, perhaps holding his hand. And Chewie. Chewie was there. Han's face contorted as what felt like blades of rough-cut glass dragged across his scalp from within. "There's nothing there," he said absently, the pain making his voice crack. He shut his eyes. Flashes of his mother wizzed by following a quick succession of faces, some nameless, others unforgettable or near-forgotten. In his mind, he spun around searching for Leia. The phantom touch of her hand slipped through his fingers and he balled his fist at its absence. He opened his eyes to stop the onslaught. The doctor was watching him intently. Bursts of perspiration had coolled his forehead and Han swiped at it with the sleeve of his jacket. Images, memories, all of those faces, flashed before his eyes with every blink. He had heard some beings describe similiar when brushed by death's hand. Had he come that close to dying?

At that moment a chime sounded; a pleasant low sound. "That's our reminder. Time's up, Captain Solo. You did well."

Han wrinkled his forehead. He didn't feel like they had done much at all. He stood on wobbly legs as the door slid open and Leia walked tentatively into the room. She hesitated and then glided towards him, looping her arm around his waist. Han locked his knees, not wanting to appear shaky in front of Leia and in her presence he somehow found strength. She squeezed him knowingly. She had been openly affectionate to him like this ever since his rescue, more than she had ever been before, yet there was an awkward barrier between them that he just couldn't find his way around.

"He is doing incredibly well," the green-skinned alien informed Leia and Han could feel her relief as she heard the words. "He should continue the zopran for the headaches and I'm certain his memory, pre and post carbonite anyway, will completely return."

"That's wonderful," Leia responded. The fact that the two of them were discussing him like a child didn't sit well with him, but he didn't feel like prolonging the visit with an argument about it, so he let it go. "I'll make sure he takes the zopran," she continued. "And, should he come back to see you?"

"One visit," Han interjected, reminding Leia of what they had agreed to.

"Han," she replied, twisting out of his arms to look up at him. From his vantage point he could see the purplish skin peaking out on her neck where her slave collar had been. He remembered what her skin tasted like as he had kissed each and every bruise away and what her hair smelled like when it was unbound and sprawled across his pillow.

"Alright," he answered her. A look of pure relief spread across her face, wiping away two and a half years of worry along with it. Han grinned, ignoring the dull throbbing that it caused. He was still amazed by all of it. He was free from Jabba, in love with a beautiful princess who was, apparently, just as much in love with him. Certainly all of that was worth a few trips to the quack? And a few headaches at that? "Anything you want," he whispered down to her.

She smiled back at him, rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly. Little did she know how much he would do for that small gesture, how much he had already done. How much he planned to do.


	8. Chapter 8 - Personal Matters

A/N: Timeframe here is mid-ESB during the flight to Bespin. Inspiration came from personal experience. :-) Get your minds out of the gutter! LOL! (You'll see why that's so funny later.)

* * *

_Personal Matters_

Leia woke to the sound of banging. This was not a strange occurrence. Not since she had found herself an unwitting, long-term passenger upon the limping starship paradoxically named the _Millennium Falcon_. She swung her feet out of the bed, quickly dressed and wrapped her long hair into a quick bun. Slowly following the sound of Corellian curses and tinkering metal, she happened upon Han Solo in the outer corridor of the ship. He was lying on the ground with his left arm shoulder-deep inside an access panel in the wall.

"Trouble?" She asked, raising one eyebrow.

"You could say that." Han replied through clenched teeth, although his eyes remained trained on the task at hand.

"Anything I should know about?"

"You could say that, too."

Uh-oh. Leia had grown up in a house full of women. Although her father had been a huge part of her life, she couldn't really say that she was privvy to his every mood like his wife, her mother, would've been. With that perspective, she had grown up knowing that women were moody creatures and, with her limited knowledge on the subject, she had grown up thinking men were not. A week into the trip with Han and Chewie aboard this small ship had her revisiting that notion, several times over. "Are you in a mood this morning? Because if so-"

"Blow it back, Chewie!" Han yelled over his shoulder.

Leia continued, "Because if so, I'll just stay out of your way."

"Probably a good idea," Han replied curtly. And then raising his voice, he said, "Okay, stop! Stop!"

She watched as Han seemed to fiddle around with something inside of the ship. Leia watched intently. "If there's something wrong with the ship, I think I should be made aware of it."

"Nothin's wrong. Just some...unchseduled maintenance."

"So, just curious, does that mean you ever do _scheduled_ maintenance? And how is it that you tell the difference, I wonder?"

Han sat up, pulling his arm out of the access panel. He gave her a quick look. "Now's really not the time." He then stood up and yelled, "Going aft, Chewie. Send it that way!"

She followed. "Han, I don't understand why you just won't tell me what's going on. It seems that you're intent on making matters worse by keeping me in the dark. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think," her sentence was cut off when she ran into the back of him as he halted unexpectedly. He only afforded her a quick glance before he crouched down, opened another access panel and continued with his work. Leia continued, "I'd _think_ that I had done something to upset you."

Han heaved a heavy breath. "Hold it there, Chewie!" He yelled, before turning to her and dropping his voice. "Look, it's nothing you did. I'm not upset. I just need to get this fixed, okay?"

"What _this_?"

"Well," he said, his voice straining as he stretched his arms up into the innards of the ship. Leia looked around, she had never seen him working on the _Falcon_ around this corridor. She wasn't exactly sure if there were any mechanics in the area. The puzzle grew even greater. "If you really must know," Han was continuing, reaching further with his arm. Then, he seemed to relax, as if he might've finally reached his goal. "Me and Chewie've been chasing this problem all morning. It's something we've never seen before. And that's sayin' somethin'." He raised his voice, "I think I got it, Chewie. Button it back up and we'll pressure test it."

"So what was it?" Leia asked, exasperated.

Han smirked as he began to remove his hand from inside the access panel in the ship. At first Leia didn't know what she was looking at. Han had produced something wet and grungy and disgusting looking. Somehow she knew what it was the instant that he said it. "Hair."

She felt her cheeks burn. "Oh."

Han stood, stretching his legs and holding out the nest of long, auburn-colored hair pinched between two fingers. "I don't suppose you can do anything with this, Your Long-hairedness? Reattach it maybe? Or...say...knit a life-sized Wookiee?"

"No," Leia answered, her voice low with embarrassment. "I do recall, however, that my father had installed special drain covers at the palace...for just this sort of thing."

"_Special drain covers_?" Han asked, nodding his head in over-exaggerated understanding. "I'll get right on that."

She lifted her shoulders up meekly. "Sorry."

Before Han could respond, Chewbacca came lumbering around the corridor barking and hooting. Leia was still learning Shyriiwook, so she didn't catch all of it, but she definitely heard something about late breakfasts and the benefits of short fur. Her hand went instintively - protectively - to her hair, enticing an amused guffaw out of Han.

"She's says she'll take that under advisement," Han yelled at the departing Wookiee as he gave Leia a quick wink. "C'mon," he said with a tilt of his hed. "I think a big breakfast will smooth everything over."

"I certainly hope so," Leia mumbled, as she had visions of herself with short, braided strands of Wookiee fur on her head.


	9. Chapter 9 - Where Were You?

A/N: I ran across a quote on Wookieepedia that inspired me to write this. The timeframe is post-ROTJ, very early on after the destruction of the second Death Star. The quote was from a Marvel Star Wars Comic Book, "Stars Wars 53: The Last Gift From Alderaan". This was it:

"It was night in our palace—were you awake or asleep, with Mother... or alone?"  
―Leia Organa

This quote really makes me curious as to in what context Leia says this. If anyone has this comic, let me know! Anyway, this is what I envisioned and then eventually wrote:

* * *

_Where Were You?_

The towering trees of Endor greedily absorbed the last of the sinking sun's rays, bringing dusk upon its inhabitants swiftly. In that fading daylight, on a secluded path, Leia Organa hugged herself tight, a shiver traveling across her frame as her gown ruffled and danced against her ankles, giving life to the cool evening breeze. Finding a break in the forest canopy, she stopped and looked up in search of an animal making strange noises in the distance. Not finding anything, she shrugged her shoulders and smiled wistfully. So many quiet moments like these were to be had since the Rebels had found victory on Endor. Leia found herself searching them out perhaps more than anyone else. Although, for the warrior Princess, what was at first a welcomed blessing had slowly begun to morph into something else entirely. Time, always an elusive agent of both good and evil, held true to its character here. Time to finally breathe after so many years of running. Time to rebuild after so much destruction. Time to find love after so much loss. Time. To think. To remember. To grieve.

She shut her eyes.

_Through a golden field of tall, flowing grass a young princess pranced lightly. The soft fabric of her dress billowed around her small legs and the braids of her hair swung sideways as she darted about. The sweet smell of spring blossoms wafted all around her and a large, imposing homestead loomed in the distance made warm to the child's eyes by years of fond memories and love. She heard her name called and turned toward the voice._

Leia bit her lip as the threat of tears began to overwhelm her. _Father_. Tilting her head back she opened her eyes and strained to find the stars through the small opening in the dense thicket of trees. She searched for the empty void in space that she knew would be there. _Where were you?_ A tear streamed down the side of her cheek. _It was night at our palace - were you awake or asleep, with Mother...or alone?_ No longer able to grasp onto her small semblance of control, she let the tears fall unchecked. "We did it," she whispered softly. "Just like you said." She let out a sob that was laced around a small, pitiful laugh. "We did it all."

As the salty trail of tears streamed down her face, the soft whistle of a breeze through the tree branches and a lone bird's call was the only answer to her words. She remained that way, accepting the silence, the nothing, the void that was there inside her just as much as it was in the sky. Then dropping her head down, she squared her shoulders, clearing her thoughts as she began to wipe the tears away. A few moments. That's all she allowed herself. A few moments a day or a week. She would never stop remembering. But she would also never let the memories overshadow the future. She would never stop looking ahead for fear of leaving the past behind. Her parents would've hated that. If Bail and Breha Organa had left her with nothing but that, then they had done their jobs well.

Her drive, her determination, her principles, she refused to believe that those things were all from some biological inheritance. She refused to believe that now, more than ever before. Regardless, whatever she was or had been born into, it had been her parents that had cultivated those parts of her that now made her who she was today. Encouraged and enticed all the good to its surface and corrected, redirected or disciplined all of the rest. Only now was she beginning to understand and appreciate the enormity of that task.

She didn't even flinch when two strong and familiar hands came up from behind her, sinking back into the body that was waiting for her there instead.

"You okay?" Han asked softly.

A nod of her head was her only answer as she turned in his arms and rested her cheek against his chest, the smell of him mingling with and eventually replacing the strong woodsy air of Endor.

Han accepted her silence knowingly as he embraced her. The damp evening and the silence surrounded them. The millions of branches above - a shroud, seemingly protecting them from the universe beyond. There was a certain reticence, at least for Leia, about leaving this place. Here the worries of the galaxy were but plot points on a display panel, distant and manageable. Soon they would fly toward them. In the natural balance and serenity of Endor, that seemed the most preposterous thing in the worlds to do. She wrapped her arms around Han's waist, drawing him closer.

"Just thinking," she finally whispered.

Han kissed the top of her head in response.

"About Bail and my Mother," she continued, calling the only man she had ever known as her father by his name since now it seemed that she had another. She pulled away from Han so that she could see his face. "They would've liked you."

Han cupped her cheek and ran this thumb along her jawline. "Uh-huh," he replied, not sounding convinced.

"Honestly," she said, the fire slowly returning to her spirit. "My father was...strong, determined, honest and fair. A lot like you." She smiled. "And my mother." She paused for a moment, not trusting her voice. "My mother was the most compassionate, understanding and strongest person I've ever met. And she would've loved you."

Han smiled down at her. "I would've loved to meet 'em."

She nodded her head before she returned to his embrace, burying her face against his chest once more. "I would've liked that, too."


	10. Chapter 10 - Except

A/N: Timeframe is post-ANH. No particular inspiration.

* * *

_Except_

The small contingent of Rebels arrived under the cover of the soft Kaliskan moonlight. So it was that when Han Solo first stepped out from under the canopy of the _Millennium Falcon_ that next morning, he found himself in awe of the planet's renowned beauty . The well-traveled spacer had never been to the cozy Mid Rim planet before. However, he was very familiar with its comparison to one Rebel Princess' homeplanet for its unspoiled beauty and love of all things quiet, peaceful and serene. Following the destruction of Alderaan, the comparisons grew greater still with many missionaries, vacationers and survivors traveling to Kaliska's tranquil landscape to capture some part of the world that was no more.

The Rebels had arrived during the winter season and the morning air was cool and crisp. Han rubbed his hands along his biceps and watched as his breath fogged the air. Shaking off a chill, he briefly considered going back to the ship for a heavier jacket but just as quickly decided against it. He had someone that he needed to see. Princess Leia Organa had been noticeably absent during most of the planning sessions for this relocation and, when not absent, she had been uncharacteristically quiet. He often wondered how the young Rebel dealt with the loss of her entire planet and found himself finely attuned to those things that would bring that burden more prominently to bear. It was not hard for anyone to realize that this would be one of those things.

Halfway across the camp he spotted her near the supply shed, lifting something she had no business lifting. When he relieved her of the bulky crate he was given only a quick, slanted stare in return. They spent much of the day in the same fashion; the re-creation of base camp had become tediously rote for all those involved. But, as was usually the case, the Princess seemed to relax as the day wore on and as the quiet, abandoned piece of land transformed into the all-too-familiar Rebel base, so did Leia Organa become more herself.

That evening, he left her to dine amongst a table full of people in uniforms all with too many bars and stars for Han's taste. Even the rogue spacer had to draw the line somewhere when it came to what he'd do for her. But after dinner he made his way to find her again, out the mess hall, down a small hill to the outskirts of camp somewhere near the edge of the perimeter where no one else would usually be but not so far as to get in trouble with one of the sentries. Eighteen months into this Rebellion thing and he had learned a few tricks; tracking Alderaanian Princesses was only one of them.

It didn't take him long to spot her and he paused for a moment before he approached. If that morning he had found the view pleasing, what he saw now made that pale in comparison. With the backdrop of snow-dipped mountains, curling rivers and proud trees bowing to the subtle wind, he found the Princess standing alone along the edge of a small stream. She had her arms wrapped around herself, hugging away the evening chill. Her hair was fixed in one long braid hanging down her back and he wondered if he had ever found military khakis to be so intriguing. The cool breeze had teased some color to her cheeks, something Han often took pleasure in doing himself. As he cautiously began his approach she glanced over her shoulder and, upon recognizing him, turned back around without a word.

Princess Tracking 101: he slowed his steps and took that as a good sign.

For what seemed like an eternity to the fast-paced, impatient, cut-to-the-chase smuggler, they stood there; both staring off into the distance thinking far off thoughts that were probably as far off from each other as the universe allowed. The moon of Kaliska had risen again for the second time since the Rebels had arrived and the song of the night insects told Han that it was time to call off the hunt. He didn't always consider what it was that he wanted to say to her. Even when he had tracked her all day long with a specific purpose in mind, he never made a habit of rehearsing the end game. This play-it-by-ear strategy had gotten him this far, eighteen months with no princess-shaped boot sole on his backside. He called that good odds.

So it was when he heaved a deep breath in, he wasn't sure of anything that he was going to say, only that it was time to say something. And as that same breath came out, he finally said, "So is it true?"

Several heartbeats later, perhaps longer than usual, she turned to face him. He found when they were alone like this that she liked to study him a little while before answering him. If she didn't like what she found, the octave level of her response would be a sure sign of her displeasure. His jaw set loosely and his expression curious but just enough impassive, he waited. She turned back to look at the mountains and responded, her octave (thankfully) very low. "That it looks like Alderaan?" She asked.

Another breath out. "Yeah."

"Everyone says it," she continued. "I've never been here before."

He waited, because that's what his gut told him to do. Sometimes when he would push a button on the _Falcon's_ control panel nothing would happen right away. Passengers (or unwanted guests) would often feel compelled to press it again (and again), or more likely, call it broken. But in his mind's eye he could trace out the connecting circuitry firing along the line, carefully and tediously setting into motion whatever their purpose might be. Sometimes all it took was a little time and eventually the _Falcon_ would respond in the way that she was supposed to. Patience was something his ship had taught him. He found the same theory worked on Alderaanian Princesses as well: ask a question; pause; wait for the circuits to connect and inevitably -

"Have you ever flown another YT-1300 freighter?"

Han didn't quite follow the jump in topics, he had learned long ago that not everyone kept the wellbeing of his ship at the forefront of their minds like he did. But it also didn't escape him that she knew the make and model of the _Falcon_. "Yeah, a few."

"I've never," she replied. "Are they just like the _Falcon_?"

He caught up to her, dawning and understanding immediately blooming inside of him. "Yeah, maybe," he answered, while a myriad of subtle and not-so-subtle differences danced within his head. "Except..."

"Yeah," she whispered, nodding slightly as she said it, not quite a smile or a frown but something in between whispering across her lips. "Except."

Han stood there with her thinking about her words. His ship - his home, his world all wrapped up in durasteel and complicated circuitry - was like no other in the galaxy. He would recognize it anywhere, never accept a substitute and die trying to protect it. Without his ship, he knew like he knew nothing else, that he would not be _him_ anymore. He looked over to the Princess and wondered who she had been before the day that he met her. His gaze traveled back to the mountains, the landscape that would forever be compared to an extinct planet and he knew that the Princess of Alderaan was much like Kaliska: still there, still a beautiful reminder of a world gone by and still mostly the same...except.


	11. Chapter 11 - Soon

A/N: Timeline: Post-ROTJ during the (re)building of the New Republic.

* * *

_Soon_

She sat alone in her office on Coruscant. It had been nearly three months since she had seen him last. On her desk there was a picture of him and her, his hand resting casually on her thigh. She couldn't look at it without sinking into a memory of what those hands had felt like; of how his fingers traveled lightly against her skin teasing shivered bumps to the surface. Memories flooded her mind of when he was seducing her - his favorite past time, by far - and how he could turn every minute detail of himself into something highly erotic; the lilt of his voice, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his mouth crooked up in a knowing smile.

She hadn't thought it was going to be this difficult. She hadn't allowed his warnings to sink in. It only mattered that she wanted this, that she wanted him, wanted them. How could the opinions of anyone stand in the way of that which he had awakened inside of her? It had not seemed possible. Lying in his arms, trembling beneath his touch, she had not let it seem possible.

But their dissatisfaction with her life choices had not manifested in the ways that she had anticipated. Certainly there had been the whispered warnings and the raised eyebrows, even the tight-lipped lines of contempt. But their greatest weapon had come from something that she herself had actually fought for, something that she would've never suspected to take on such a cruel edge. Victory. With their victory had come obligations. She, an important cog in the wheel of progress and he, a talented leader on the front lines of the waning war.

And so it had been _time_ and _duty_ that had begun to separate them. Silent, nameless, faceless enemies those two, that proved nearly impossible to fight.

And so she read his name on reports and manifests more than she saw the man himself, idly dragging her finger across the letters on the screen, her touch lingering and possessive. In the middle of the night, on the blank wall of her home office, she would project a map of the galaxy and pinpoint the exact location in space where he might be and just stare. She saw his tousled hair and long gait in random strangers on the street, every holocall held promise that it might be him.

But it never was.

She held meetings, presided over negotiations and hosted dinners nearly every night. In the press, she recited speeches and rallied troops, her fame and popularity blooming. Yet in her heart, her soul was shrinking.

She signed another treaty and doused another potential political fire while she readied herself for her next meeting and her holocom rang yet again.

"Organa."

In that moment of crackles and silence, she let herself believe that it might be him and the spin of her world slowed down. _"Leia?"_

His voice, like a voice from the grave, took her breath away and she could only cover her mouth and turn her back to the opened office door.

_"Leia, can you hear me?"_

Syllables! Words! A long-awaited sentence and yet she could only smile - the broadest, happiest of smiles - and nod her head earnestly, however pointlessly, in response.

_"I don't have long. Honey, I miss you. That's all I'm callin' to say."_

"Come home," she whispered, the words garbled and choked over her checked tears and the bad connection.

_"What was that, sweetheart? I can't hear you."_

"I said, I want you to come home."

In that moment of silence she let herself imagine that he would say yes, that however long it took for his ship to hop through hyperspace would be all the wait she would have to be in his arms.

He made a noise finally, a sort of sad laugh. _"I wish I could."_

She closed her eyes. She could picture him dragging his fingers through his hair, could see the sad smile on his lips, the sparkle of concern in his eye.

_"Leia? Are you okay?"_

She nodded her head again and then followed up with a breathy, "Yes."

_"We're giving 'em hell, sweetheart. I'll be home soon. I promise."_

She turned back to the opened door of her office, ensuring no one was intruding on this moment for more reasons than one. "I know. I love you."

_"Love you, too. I'll see you soon."_

The connection began to crackle and in the interest of time and clarity, she simply replied, "Soon." Over the few remaining sputters she thought she heard him say 'Solo out' and then the line went dead. She held the comm unit in her hand, grasping it tightly; a fragile tether to the man that had been on the other end. Her blood pounded in her veins with renewed vigor as if she was breathing straight oxygen. Her lips trembled with a determined smile and she coughed out a broken laugh that came from the strange, sudden influx of sheer happiness into what had been a pit of utter despair. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth trying her best to quell it, but it was to no avail.

_Soon_, she thought to herself, feeling more giddy at the thought. He would be home soon. He would be _hers_ soon. And in that small, nebulous word she found enough of a promise to re-center herself and refocus. She took another deep breath and straightened her posture. Another round of meetings, a few dozen dinners and a treaty or two, all at once didn't seem so bad. She smiled. _I will be _his,_ soon_.

They would be together soon...


End file.
